


Two Roads Diverged

by glitterfey



Category: How I Met Your Mother
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:10:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterfey/pseuds/glitterfey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every story is a happy one, kids, but they all make us who we are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Roads Diverged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celestialskiff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialskiff/gifts).



Kids, this isn't the story of how I met your mother. It's not even a sidebar; not a goat, nor a movie nor a building. No, kids, this is the story of one part of my past, the part that left me aching and open and better.

I met Marshall on the first day of college, and Lily then, too. You know that. They fell in love immediately, and you know that, too. We spent college with a few too many adventures and a few too many other things, too, but again, you know that.

What you don't know is how much further that all went.

Junior year, and we were 20, fearless. We practically lived together, the three of us, holed up in a tiny dorm room, two twin beds, a few textbooks and many, many sandwiches. Hey, it was the '90s! That sort of thing was okay back then.

So anyway, I'd just come back from a major Dr. X event--huge turnout for my--I mean, his rally against automatic toilets and their inherent fascism--and Lily and Marshall were in our room, high as kites and clamoring about some epic party in the janitor's closet down the hall. And it sounded strange, right, but not too strange, because it was Marshall and Lily, and if they wanted to go, then I wanted to go, too. So we gathered ourselves together and started to head down the hall. But instead--

"Dad, this story blows, it's not about mom, and you're violating the deal. I'm out."

Kids, you have no idea. But really, as many inappropriate stories as I tell you, it's probably best you won't hear this one. And now that you're gone, I can tell the story as it really happened.

There was a lot, a lot of liquor, and a lot of pot, and a lack of inhibitions, and it was, I'm told, one of the craziest nights of my life.

Not as crazy as the next morning, though, when the three of us, Lily, Marshall and I, woke up, a hungover pile of limbs sprawled across the floor of our dorm room, naked and sore in places that didn't make sense, until they did, and I ran away as fast as I could.

We didn't speak, the three of us, for five days.

It happened again, and I wasn't any more sober that time, either.

And so we finished college, and we moved to New York, and we lived, and it was fabulous. We met Barney, and Robin, and made a home for ourselves the very best we could.

We didn't talk about it for years, and I don't know if we would have, if Lily hadn't gotten pregnant.

"It's okay," she said, palming her swollen stomach and facing us while sitting on my bed. I'd been asked to sit down, but instead I paced, crossing paths back and forth, back and forth with Marshall, always one step and one direction ahead of me. "We all know what happened in college, and it's the best way. You can be there for each other, and neither one of you is getting any right now. Let it happen!"

I wanted to, I truly did, but speaking in vague terms and glossing over the subject wasn't going to help. "Damnit, Lily," I shouted, "you can't even use the words! You want me to fuck your husband, right? Fuck! Your! Husband!"

"No, Ted. I want my husband to fuck you."

I collapsed on the bed beside Lily, then, because what else could I do?

It was glorious, mind-blowing, soul affirming, everything you've ever wanted in lovemaking. I came so hard I cried. Or at least, that's what I let them think.

You mostly never know why your mind chooses to repress some things. Maybe they were too traumatic, too intense, too close to that tipping point between good and evil, sane and not quite lucid. For once, though, I understood, and when I realized I was desperately in love with him, had been since that very first time, so many years ago, I very much wished for the numbness and amnesia of before.

Instead, I took what I could get, and we made love seventeen times, Marshall and I, always under Lily's direction. I got quite good at pretending she wasn't there, pretending he was mine and we were forever. I was living my life in a land of dreams, and it was perfection. He stroked my hair and stroked my cock, and I was in love, undeniable, incredible love.

Dreams and love are quite alike. They shatter easily, and more often than not, there are too many shards to ever walk safely down the path again.

The baby was beautiful, and her name was Evelyn, and I hated her and loved her and treasured her and wanted her gone. She ruined everything and made the world complete.

It's hard to pretend your life is great when it really, really isn't. It's hard to fall out of love when you really, really don't want to, and it's hard to love your goddaughter when all you can see in her eyes is your lover.

I gave myself a few days to mourn for what never was, to wish for things that wouldn't be, to pick up the fragments and put together what puzzle I could.

And I did. I was an ugly mosaic, but I traveled on.

It's hard to hate someone who has your name, who came from your best friend--one of your best friends--who looks at the world with innocence and grace, who didn't mean to hurt you by existing. It's not fair, either. And after all, she's how I met your mother. But that's a story for another time.

I don't think Marshall and Lily ever knew how I felt, and I don't want them to ever know. I'm not embarrassed or resentful or even in love anymore, but I adore what we have, what we've built together, the five of us, the six of us with your mother, and I don't want things to change. We're happy, and that's more than good enough.

I know you're not listening, kids, and that's for the best, but please know that I’m a better person because of this. I can love stronger, and harder, and I know in my heart what I can overcome. I'm proud of who I am and who I was and who I'll someday be.

And Lily and Marshall said, "We're proud of you, too."


End file.
